


Compromise

by RubyBelle



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Spit Drinking, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyBelle/pseuds/RubyBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seth makes a last-ditch effort to get Randy on his side, slip of the mouth and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> super quick, super short. "spit drinking" isn't a thing, but it should be.

The Pay-Per-View is a week away and Seth is almost entirely, one hundred percent sure that Randy Orton is definitely probably going to kill him. He just isn't sure if it'd be a fast death or not.

He tried to make amends, he really did, but Randy just doesn't have enough humanity in him to, well, let bygones be bygones. Seth knows he's just grasping at straws, even Hunter can't get him to behave long enough to have a calm discussion, so there's really no chance that he can get Randy to pull punches. This is a grudge, forged in blood and injuries, cultivated over time off, Seth is really testing his luck with even being in the same room as him.

Randy is probably less than a human, there's a reason why everyone always calls him a snake, after all. There's no reasoning with snakes. But, with a week deadline to Seth's death certificate being signed, he figures that even a slim chance is better than no chance, and so he follows Randy into the locker room after the live show ends.

They hadn't fought each other, the company trying their hardest to separate the two until a couple of security guards could be present, but Seth keeps an eye on his upcoming opponent, regardless. He's in good form, and he had won, so there is a slight joy there, it isn't all bad. If he's going to get Randy to agree to anything, it will have to be now, after everyone else left and before the cleaning guys come in, while Randy is still loosened up from his match.

Seth has already gotten changed, all of his things in a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, in case things go wrong and he has to get carted out of the arena. Randy clearly notices him entering the empty locker room, but ignores him in favour of getting dressed. Seth stands awkwardly at the door, shifting weight from leg to leg.

Finally, after what seems like ages, Randy sighs and turns around, his face already sour. "Alright, what?"

"I just wanted to talk," Seth says immediately, the words feeling practiced. "About our match."

"There's nothing to say," Randy says, folding up a shirt and packing it into a small rolling suitcase on the bench in the middle of the aisle. "I'm gonna kill you."

"Can't we —  " Seth stammers, carefully walking a little closer. "Can't we, like, talk? Like adults?"

Randy levels his gaze onto Seth, who bites his tongue. "Nah."

"What do you want, man? If you want something, I'll get it for you," Seth realizes that he is clearly desperate. Randy doesn't reply, he just zips up his bag. "I'll do anything, too, just don't —  don't, like —  "

"Win?" Randy offers, still refraining from caring about Seth. "Not gonna happen."

"I can ask Hunter about getting you a pay bump. I'll —  I don't know, I'll shine your shoes," Seth begs, and he thinks about how he's not used to doing this outside of hotel rooms. "I'm serious, I'll drink your spit or something, I'm not really asking for a lot. Just, y'know... Lay down for me?"

Randy doesn't turn to look at Seth, his head downturned, eyes locked on his bag on the bench. Seth tightens his fists nervously, wondering if this was a good sign or not. Randy is a different threat than any other opponent, he's a lot more volatile and clever than any of the other meatheads in the company. Hunter warned him about this. He isn't predictable, and he's too strong to be taken lightly. 

"What was that?" Randy finally asks, bringing his head up to look Seth in the eyes. "I don't know if I heard you right."

"Lay down for me?" Seth cautiously repeats, not knowing where this was going.

"Before that." There's a grin on Randy's face, and it sends a rock down into Seth's stomach.

"I..." Oh no. He just spoke without thinking, Seth didn't think he'd have to actually do anything he suggested. "I'll, uh... Shine your shoes." 

"Not that, Rollins," Randy says, still grinning, a glint of something sinister in his eyes. "You know what I'm getting at, you said you'd drink my spit, right?"

Seth bites his tongue. Better to be silent than to incriminate himself.

Randy doesn't take to kindly to his evasion. A hand shoots out, grabbing Seth by his collar, and Randy swings him around to the ground, hitting the floor with a unexpected force to knock the wind out of Seth. He chokes for a second, no air in his lungs, and Randy takes the moment of weakness to straddle him, pinning both of Seth's arms down by his side. Seth tries to complain, _wants_ to complain, but Randy puts a hand over his mouth, large enough to cover his entire mouth and chin.

"Now _that's_ an interesting proposal," Randy laughs, leaning over Seth, a huge imposing presence. "I've never heard that one before. You're serious, right?"

He doesn't lift his hand, but rather slides it to the side, freeing Seth's mouth again, slow enough that Seth knows he can't shout. He takes a moment to chew on the inside of his cheek, trying to swallow the fear rising in his chest. "If you say you'll lay for the three count," he starts, trying to set up some kind of rule, some kind of official deal, to get some kind of promise. "Then... yeah. I, uh... I am."

Seth doesn't need to see Randy's face to know that he just agreed to a horrible idea.

"What, are you nervous?" he asks, satisfied humor colouring his words. "You're the one who brought it up in the first place." His hand trails from his chin down, around his neck, an uncharacteristic gentleness in his touch. It only serves to send shivers down Seth's body, drawing a laugh from Randy.

"I'm not —  " tries Seth, the words unsure, weak. "Not scared." His body betrays him, tense under Randy's large body, goosebumps raising on his arms. Randy laughs again, darker this time.

With Seth trapped obediently underneath his touch, Randy seems much more relaxed, more fluid with his movements. He doesn't see Seth as a threat, probably doesn't even see him as an equal, just a plaything. Seth wonders if this is what it's like to be held in the maw of a predator, not seen as a life, but as a meal. A soft whimper escapes him at the thought, his heart pounding in his throat. Randy notices instantly, a crueler smile growing on his face.

He doesn't move his hand from his neck when he leans down, using his other hand to pull down the collar of Seth's shirt, pressing his mouth against his collarbone. It's not a kiss, there's nothing tender or loving in his action, and when he parts his lips, his teeth graze over the delicate skin. Seth curls in response, tensing up, a hot, heavy weight deep in his gut. He still can't move, he's pinned down, and Randy moves his mouth up, teeth and tongue barely skimming across bronzed skin.

He's so close, Seth's sure that he'll bite down at any second, eat him whole, and he can't remember what the exact deal they agreed on was anymore. He's sure it'll be over soon, but he doesn't know how soon, doesn't know what else Randy has in store for him. Randy's hand tightens a little bit around his neck, a small gasp escapes Seth, and then he pulls away.

It's like Seth finally has room to breath, to _live_ , but he doesn't dare move, aside from the occasional fidget, trying to find a release from some of the pressure in his lower half. Randy watches with a predatory gleam in his eyes as he presses the tips of two fingers against Seth's lips, who tries to resist at first, but with another warning squeeze around his neck, he obeys, letting the thick digits invade his mouth.

"C'mon," Randy says, voice thicker than Seth remembered. "Show some life."

Seth furrows his brow, wondering how bad it would be for him if he just bit the bastard right now, but surrenders. He's unsure of how reluctant he gives control, part of him wants to fight back, but the rest of him just wants Randy to do whatever he pleases.

Randy lets out a satisfied growl as Seth's tongue laps against the intrusion. "Good," he says, releasing his grip on Seth's neck, rubbing his thumb in soft, small circles around his Adam's apple. He smirks when he hears Seth moan in response, the sound muffled by the fingers pressing inside his mouth.

Seth knows how red he must be, the spit pooling out of his mouth and running down the side of his cheek makes his anxious, his pulse right under the surface of his skin, but when Randy leans in, looming over him, he just can't stop the moan. Randy presses his fingers further into his mouth, almost making him gag, not that Randy seems as if he cares. The anxiety turns to unease, only growing in intensity when Randy uses his fingers to force Seth's mouth open.

Instinctually, he struggles against it, his shoulders jerking up off the cold floor. Randy's thumb, still on Seth's neck, presses down again, hard, quelling any rebellion. Seth starts to cough, but can't bring himself to bite down on Randy's fingers, so it's unsatisfying, rough, painful. His eyes start to tear, his entire sinus system fighting against the invasion, and Randy's fingers are rough and hot against his tongue.

The hand on his neck moves up to Seth's mouth, which is still forced open by Randy's other hand. "This is a good look for you, Rollins," he chuckles, using the back of his free hand to wipe of the saliva that's poured from the corner of Seth's open mouth. Seth tries to glare at him through the tears, blinking wildly to clear his vision. Randy runs his fingers over Seth's cherry red bottom lip before suddenly hooking them over his teeth and forcing his mouth open wider.

Seth coughs again, the pressure crushing, and Randy leans in closer, until all Seth can see is his dark blue eyes, his breath hot against his skin.

He remembers what Randy intends to do only a second before he actually does it. Something wet drips into his mouth, sliding along his tongue and heading down towards the back of his throat. There's nothing Seth can do with his mouth forced open so wide, he's only able to lay there and feel Randy's spit make its way down his throat.

Seth's chest heaves, his cock solid and throbbing in his jeans, and Randy laughs at his muffled whimper. And then he does it again. This time, he pulls back as he does so, and Seth watches helplessly as a thick trail of saliva escapes his mouth, the clear fluid taking an agonizingly long time before it finally hits his tongue. Seth hears himself whine, the sound entirely involuntary as the spit slides down his throat, and Randy laughs, baring his teeth. He watches Seth's helpless reactions for a bit, like a true carnivore, and Seth can tell he's also getting hard, he can feel the tension against his ache.

Randy's fingers abruptly force his mouth open even wider, and Seth gags as his body is pushed to the limits. He coughs again, his throat desperately protesting the abuse, but he doesn't try to push Randy off. Randy clears his throat loudly, and before Seth can react, he spits, hitting the back of his throat dead-center.

Seth whimpers again, this time out of relief, as Randy finally pulls his fingers out of his mouth, allowing him to close it. The corners of his jaw ache, creaking closed painstakingly, and without thinking, Seth swallows, not even flinches as the last of Randy's saliva trails agonizingly slow down his throat. When Seth opens his eyes again, the tears falling down the sides of his temple, he can see Randy's face, his amused grin like a threat, watching all of Seth's reactions.

Neither of them move, Randy remaining straddled above Seth, who gasps as if he hadn't breathed in hours. Seth knows what he has to do next, and it's agony, but it's not as if he could get any lower beneath Randy. Only when everything has finally made its way down the length of his throat does Seth speak, Randy's eyes alight, expectant.

"Thanks," he croaks, and Randy laughs.

He carefully gets up, and Seth can see how tight Randy's pants are drawn below his waist. He wonders if he'd be flattered in another circumstance, but the throbbing in his own pants and jaw doesn't do anything but serve to make him more ashamed, embarrassed, angry. Seth sits up on the floor, heart still going a mile a second in his chest.

"Anytime, Rollins," Randy says, grabbing his jacket and bag off the bench. "It was my pleasure."

Seth wonders if Randy has any intention of honouring his end of the bargain, but can't bring himself to ask. Randy laughs again, watching Seth, and leaves the locker room without wasting another moment.


End file.
